


Little Witch

by myeongdong



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Supernatural Elements, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-02-18 17:44:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13105320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myeongdong/pseuds/myeongdong
Summary: Jongdae comes back home, just to turn it into hell.





	1. Stranger

Nui Loa was a place full of abundance. Always. The villagers were living in harmony with the surrounding them world, and through good deeds, were always blessed by the gods. The rivers streaming from high mountain ranges were of a crystal color, curing any diseases that would occur, vegetables and grains gathered from the ground held vitamins upholding long lifestyles, and fruits from the trees were of fuller in color and taste than anything else around them.

Nui Loa was heaven on earth.

No winter was ever cold enough to kill the roots and no summer hot enough to burn the leaves. There was never a wind strong enough to bring down the trees, or rain heavy enough to ruin the crops. There was nothing that could destroy Nui Loa, the greatest country of all.

However, although the ground of the village were innocent, their innocence was bought with sins of the hearts of the people, who’s souls were poisoned with vanity.

 

Jongdae woke up from a nightmare, breathing heavily.

“Are you alright?” a female voice asked, and wood cracked in the background.

The boy, who was sitting on a small bed by the window in the corner of a hut, looked outside to the violet sky to calm his mind.

“I think it’s time to come back,” his stated, looking towards a woman sitting by the table, “I’ve got all the names.”

The female was of a small posture, with beautiful long hair and fair skin.

“Let’s do it, then,” the nodded, and moved everything that there was in front of here to the side, and rolled an old piece of paper, “give me the names.”

Jongdae dictated a list of five names, and the woman wrote them all down.

“Justice will be served,” she whispered, standing up.

“They will all be dead, before the next full moon rises, and the whole village of Nui Loa will be damned,” Jongdae spoke, and left the room.

 

“King! My king!” a servant ran into a small room of the king’s house, which stood in the middle of the Nui Loa.

“Kyungsoo,” the crown spoke, “what is it that has you rushing into my house unannounced?”

“The leaves, my king! The crops! They’re dying!”

Once the words were heard around the room, everyone present stood up, terrified at the news.

“Impossible!” the king yelled, “impossible!”

“There’s frost everywhere!” another person yelled, rushing in to stand beside Kyungsoo, “if it gets any colder, it may start snowing, and then . . .” the voice stopped, but everyone understood what was left unspoken.

The king frowned, and quickly made his way outside, to the plaza in front of his house. Just as he had been told, there was frost covering the houses and the ground.

“Siwon,” a young woman rushed his way, and grabbed his arm tightly, “what is going on?”

“I don’t know that yet, my love.”

“Do you think they want another offering? Do you think the spirits want another sacrifice?!” she asked, panicked.

“Don’t worry, my love,” he whispered quietly, “the last sacrifice that we offered them is still being executed. We still have a couple of more moons before the spirits will need to be fed. We’re safe.”

“Then why is everything dying?!”

“I don’t know, but I will figure it out!”

That same day, the king called for his most loyal men, and left the village to go on a quest, to find the source of that dark magic.

 

Two days had passed since the frost appeared in the village, and while everyone was panicking, Jongdae was taking slow walks around the place, remembering every crook and nook from his childhood. He remembered the vivid colors of cherry blossoms, the lovely smell of freshly baked bread, the clear air that filled his lungs. On the surface, everything was the same.

Jongdae smirked.

Under the surface, everything was dying.

“They’re back!” someone yelled, and people started quickly gathering around the main entrance to the village. Jongdae jumped on a stuck of boxes, for a better view, and curiously observed the scene.

The king and his men came back from their quest, and behind them, tied up by his hands and bounded to the last horse, followed a man. Jongdae tilted his head to the side, intrigued.

The man’s skin was almost white, his hair was black, dump, falling onto his face.

Jongdae followed the crowd, staying hidden in the shadows, as they moved into the plaza in front of the king’s house. Just as the crown stepped down from his horse, and the stranger fell to the ground from exhaustion, it started snowing.

The sky went dark, and snowflakes were slowly falling towards the ground. Frost caught on the windows, leaving small patterns. Everyone gasped, terrified, and took a step back, afraid of the newcomer.

A dark smirk adored Jongdae’s lips.

“We found the witch, who brought this fate on us!” the king announced, nearing the black haired boy. “He stinks of black magic!” the man said, grabbing the boy tightly by his hair and pulling his head up harshly, for everyone to see.

Jongdae tilted his head again, taking a good look at the newcomer. His eyes were as black as his hair, his cheeks slightly painted with pink blush, and his peachy lips were parted, a string of blood escaping from the corner, and onto his torso. The man was breathing heavily, and his arms and legs were shaking.

“Look at him!” the king spoke again, “he does not even deny it!”

“How is he to deny anything, when he barely breaths!” Jongdae yelled above the crowd, slowly making his way forward towards the middle of the circle, where the king and the stranger were. “It is not a condition to question, anybody,” he pointed standing in front of everyone.

“Who are you? And how dare you speak in his defense!”

“Oh, my king!” Jongdae exclaimed and took a mockingly deep bow, “would you not remember me? You burnt my mother on a stake, spilled my sister’s blood in the name of the ancestors, and stole the crown from my father’s head, after you chopped it off his body,” he smirked, and everyone gasped, “My name is Kim Jongdae, your highness.”

The king’s eyes grew wider, as he gasped, “Jongdae… we thought… we thought you were dead…”

“Oh, no, not dead, you’re majesty. Just out of sight. After all, not all of your assassins are skilled well enough,” he shrugged, “I decided to come back home, as I kind of missed the place.”

Siwon’s eyes shone, and he looked at the boy at his feet.

“Do you know him, Jongdae?” the man asked, pointing at the stranger.

Jongdae looked at both of them, and then shrugged again, “never seen the man in my life.”

The king hummed, but nodded, “and when did you come back?”

Jongdae smirked, knowing the thoughts that started bothering the elder’s mind.

“A couple of days ago,” he replied, nearing the stranger.

“Stay away, Jongdae,” the king said, pointing his sword in the younger’s direction, “he needs to die.”

“On what grounds?” the boy tilted his head.

“Black magic.”

A few people in the crowd yelled in agreement.

“And what evidence is there, that this man is a witch? He may he just a traveler, who was attacked by one,” the boy suggested, and his eyes darkened.

The people around them went silent, thinking of his words.

“The real evil, may still be out there. You would kill an innocent soul, and only angered the spirts. The winter is coming,” he pointed, “which means you must have already done it. Do you want to anger the spirits more?” he asked, looking at everyone.

“He’s right!” someone yelled, “don’t kill the boy!”

“But what if he’s the witch! What if he kills all of us in our sleep?” someone else pointed.

Jongdae chuckled, and nearing the boy, who by now looked as if he was sleeping, with his eyes closed, head hanging low, arms dropped, and only his chest shivering, he kicked his lightly.

“He’s a dead man walking,” Jongdae pointed, “do you really think he would be able to harm anyone?”

“Step away!” the king ordered, pointing his sword up again, “who do you think you are?! Coming back to a place you’re not welcome to! Telling us what to do, as if you knew best! You do not belong here, anymore! You’re mother was a witch, you’re stained! You’re not one of us! Go back to where you came from!”

Jongdae laughed, and the laugh froze blood in everyone’s veins.

“Yes, I am not one of us—I am better. Yes, I don’t belong here—I belong down there, in that filthy house of yours, where my father’s throne stands. A place I am not welcomed to? I belong here by blood of my ancestors, rooted in these grounds. There is a piece of me in every inch of this poisonous village!” he proclaimed, and disregarding the sword pointed at his throat, he knelt by the unconscious boy and put him on his back.

“Innocent, until proven guilty,” he said, and started walking away.

“You’ll be the death of all of us!” the king yelled, “look at him! Look at your righteous prince walking away with the devil in his arms! Beware, people! Beware!”

Jongdae only smiled, walking into the night of the woods.

* * *

 


	2. Little Witch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not proofread/unedited

“Jongdae!” a woman gasped, upon spotting the boy at the entrance, “what happened? Where were you? And… who are you carrying on your back?!”

“They wanted to kill him. Probably as a sacrifice,” he groaned, throwing the stranger on the bed.

“What they?! Sacrifice? Why?” the woman ran towards the boy to check up on him. “He’s feverish.”

“The king… Siwon. He tries to tell everyone he’s a witch and needs to be killed,” he explained, bringing the woman a class of water for the stranger. “I confronted him, you know, Siwon. I think I managed to scare him, too,” Jongdae smirked, “but when I was looking at him” he looked at the boy in the bed, “I saw mum, you know… before they burnt her. And they would have done the same to him, had I not done anything.”

“You did the right thing, Jongdae,” the woman spoke softly, putting a hand on his shoulder, “they will pay for what they’ve done. The ancestors are angry, just as you are. These cowards’ days are numbered. Now, go rest. There are busy days ahead of us.”

“Alright, Fanny,” he nodded, “good night.”

 

_“Grab her!” a voice yelled, and some other screamed. A woman grabbed Jongdae in her arms, picked him up, and started running. There was fire everywhere, and blood that stained walls._

_“Got you, you witch!” a man jumped in front of them, and Jongdae fell to the floor._

_“Run, baby, run away!” the woman screamed at him, struggling to get free from the man’s grip._

_“But mommy!” the boy mumbled, but before he got to finish, more people neared them. They were holding torches, knives and chains._

_“I said run!” his mother yelled once more, and Jongdae did as he was told._

_“Grab the kid! Stab him, bleed him to death, don’t let him leave!”_

_Jongdae ran as fast as his short legs allowed him. He could feel someone else’s steps behind him, getting closer. He stumbled upon his own feet and fell to the ground. There was a metallic taste of blood in his mouth, and his small hands were scratched._

_“Got you!” a voice came from behind him, and a pair of hands wrapped around his ankles._

_“Let go! Let go!” Jongdae yelled, struggling, just as his mother, to get free from his oppressor’s hold. But to no avail._

_“I will make you watch your mother burn, your sister’s blood stream down the main street, and your father being executed. And by the end of it, when I prove to everyone that you’ve got your mother’s genes and you’re a witch, I will kill the last of the Kims, and the throne and the crown will forever be mine,” Siwon whispered to Jongdae’s ear, keeping a sword at his throat._

 

_The night was cold, but it was also bright like a day, with fire burning around and in the middle of the main plaza. There, just in front of his home, stood a massive pile of wood, with a stake on top, to which his mother was being just tided up to._

_“Tonight!” a loud voice rang, “the witch dies, and we continue to live in abundance!”_

_And the next thing Jongdae saw were flames consuming his mother, and her screams filled his bones. There was nothing heroic about the queen’s death, because she was no longer the queen. She became a witch, and for that, she burnt on a stake._

_“Now it’s time for your sister. With a sacrifice like her, we will never live poorly. Ever.”_

_“No, please—“ the boy cried out, but the sword had only been pressed further into his throat._

 

Jongdae opened his eyes, breathing heavily. His heart was banging against his chest, and his skin was covered in sweat.

“Are you alright?” he heard a weak whisper, which startled him. It was only after a few moments that he remembered there was one more person in the room. A little above him, on the bed, rested a form of an unknown man he had brought home hours before. “You were screaming,” he man spoke again, and his voice, although weak, was very calm.

“I’m fine,” Jongdae answered shortly. “How are you?”

“Where am I?” the boy asked, instead, and his voice was harsh.

“You’re safe. No one will do any harm to you, here. Do you need water?”

The other nodded slightly, almost visibly, and hummed in response. Jongdae stood up and upon crossing the cold, stone ground to grab a glass. Everything was silent, only steps echoing against the walls.

“Thank you.”

“Who are you?” Jongdae asked, sitting back at the floor, allowing the stranger some space.

“My name is Kim Minseok,” the black haired man introduced himself.

“I am –“

“Kim Jongdae,” the man, Minseok, interrupted, “I know. I heard you introduce yourself to those people in town.”

Jongdae nodded, leaving it as it was.

“Why did they brought you to the village?”

Minseok chuckled, and then groaned in pain, “called me a witch. Said I brought winter on them.”

“Did you?”

“I have better things to do, than bringing destruction upon villages,” the buy smirked, “I guess you can just say I was in a wrong place at a wrong time.”

Jongdae hummed, nodding in understanding.

“Why did you save me?” he asked, “they would’ve burnt me at stake or sacrifice me to their pagan gods.”

“I have my reasons.”

Minseok’s eyes suddenly started falling shut, and his breath calmed. Jongdae observed as the other struggled to stay awake, but in the end, his fever won.

 

“Jongdae,” Fanny called his name, sitting next to him on the porch and giving him a plate with breakfast, “eat.”

The boy nodded, and upon taking the food, he went back to staring into the forest.

“What are you thinking about?”

“I’m imagining these trees burning,” he whispered, “I can hear Siwon’s screams and yells and his begging. I can see his face full of fear.”

“Jongdae—“

“There is nothing I know except for the feeling of range and anger, Fanny,” he looked at the woman, “I need this to be done as soon as possible... I want them to pay—“

“Is that why you saved me?” a voice came, and they both gasped. When they turned, there was Minseok leaning against the doorframe, still pale and weak, but no longer feverish.

“I told you,” Jongdae spoke, standing up, “I had my reasons.”

“They would have done to me what they did to your mother. Is this your reason? One of them?” the other asked, and they just stared at each other.

“How do you know about that?” Fanny asked, standing between the boys.

“He was talking in his sleep,” Minseok pointed, never taking his eyes off Jongdae.

“Let’s go eat inside. You need strength,” the boy said in the end, and passing Fanny and Minseok, he walked into the shadows of the house.

 

Days were passing.

Minseok was regaing his strength, and the village was slowly dying. After the frost came snow, and after that storms and rain. The panic was growing, and the unrest could be felt in the air. People were afraid.

“Fear,” Jongdae whispered one day, inhaling the fresh air of an early morning, “can you smell it?”

“I believe what I smell is the forest, but I guess these two are very similar,” Minseok commented, and Jongdae laughed. “Full moon is approaching. Are you really going to do it? Slaughter them all?”

Jongdae only smiled, nodding, “yes,” he answered, as if there was nothing troubling in murdering a whole village.

“Why, though?”

Jongdae started humming a tune Minseok had already heard before. It was rather slow, sounded almost like a lullaby, but whenever he asked the other about the lyrics, he always disregarded the question.

“Is that supposed to be an answer?” he asked, again.

“Indeed, my friend,” Jongdae smiled, “this should tell you everything.”

“What is it about all the secrets?”

The morning was calm, the sun was rising above the horizon, casting rays on Jongdae’s face, and the boy looked ethereal.

“A secret for a secret,” he whispered, never looking at his companion, only slowly moving his head to the rhythm of his song.

Minseok smirked, “fair enough. Ask away.”

Jongdae stoped moving, and turned his face to look directly at the elder. His skin seemed almost porcelain, and as the rays of sun reflected in his complexion, Jongdae thought it would break if only he was to touch it, even lightly, with a feather. Falling deep in the black hole that was Minseok’s gaze, Jongdae brought his hand up, to caress the other’s cheek.

“Ask me, Jongdae,” came out a whisper, and an electric shot ran through the younger’s fingers.

“Who are you?” he questioned, tilting his head to a side, studying the porcelain face carefully. It felt as if the time stopped, Jongdae didn’t think he even was even breathing anymore. His fingers were frozen on the man’s face, and he was searching his eyes for answers. But there was nothing in them, except for darkness, “don’t I deserve to know?”

“Knowledge…” Minseok mumbled, smiling fondly at the younger, and upon grabbing the other’s hand that was resting on his cheek with his own, he started drawing slow circles on the inside of Jongdae’s palm, “dangerous thing,” he chuckled, “but even more dangerous is knowledge driven by emotions,” he spoke, and looked Jongdae in the eyes again, “no good ever comes from that.”

Minseok smiled, and with his free hand pushed a few loose bangs away from the younger’s eyes.

“You’re not answering my question…”

“I am. The answer is—it does not matter.”

“It matters to me,” Jongdae pressed, narrowing his eyes.

“Tell me, Jongdae,” Minseok spoke softly, his hand still holding the other’s, “does it feel _good_?” he asked, and placed his lips against the younger’s.

There was a sudden shot of cold that filled Jongdae, as if air had been sucked out of his lungs, and all the cells in his body were on fire. He felt lightheaded, and could hear his pulse ringing in his ears, his heart beat slowing down. The darkness underneath his eyelids started filling with stars, and as the elder started embracing him, Jongdae felt as if he was being crushed by ice. It felt, as if Minseok was sucking his soul out of his core.

It all stopped suddenly, the warmth from the early morning sun came back to spread over his neck, the wind was still disturbing leaves, and his heart was beating again. However, the cold never left.

“What have you done to me?” he asked, feeling _fear_.

Minseok chuckled, getting back to drawing small circles on Jongdae’s hand, “I gave you the answer you were demanding. So tell me, my little witch, what is that song you keep on humming?” he whispered, and Jongdae’s eyes grew.

“How did you…”

“How did I know you were a witch? You don’t give me enough credit, I know much more than I let on,” he smirked, and placed another kiss on Jongdae’s lips, but this time, it felt _just right_. “Let’s play a game,” he mumbled.

“What game?”

“That riddle I just gave you,” Minseok smiled, and leaned closer, to whisper into Jongdae’s ear “if you can riddle me this and tell me who I am, I will give you the sun and the moon and all of the stars.”

The boy swallowed hard, “and if I don't?”

“If you don’t, then your soul will forever be mine.”

There was something about the way he said it, be it the dark undertone in his voice, the uplift in the corners of his lips, or the sparkles in his black eyes, that sent shivers down Jongdae’s spine.

“How much time do I have?”

“Three moons. Until the bloody moon rises. Once you spill the blood of the villagers, I will come to you, to ask for answer. Now tell me, my little witch, what are the lyrics to your song?” he stressed, resting his back against a tree they were sitting under.

 

“Tingling thoughts of murder,  
dangling through the branches of trees  
As if dread from an uncertain past;   
further floats among the living effigies.  
  
A whisper from long ago still echoes,   
where people dare not put foot.  
A place, where time slows  
A place where men once stood.”*

 

“Tingling thoughts of murder,” Minseok murmured, running a hand through Jongdae’s hair, “it suits you, little witch.”

* * *

* poem by Liam Adam Scicluna – Witch Hunt


	3. The hunt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (not proof read)

Jongdae was sitting on the black ground, in the circle of trees, with the moonlight shining directly onto him, and candles lighted up around his form. His eyes were closed, and his lips were slowly moving, pronouncing inaudible prayers.

“No prayers will help you, my little witch,” a voice came, and Jongdae’s eyes shot open.

“Whoever you are, whatever you are, you certainly know enough about be, to know that one should not interrupt witches’ prayers,” Jongdae replied, glancing to his left, where Minseok was leaning against the tree.

“I guess the thought of you unleashing mythical forces on me turns me on,” he winked, licking his lips. A shiver ran down Jongdae’s spine.

“Or the idea of sucking my soul out of my core,” the witch whispered, adverting his gaze to the burning flames, “I have one moon left to solve your riddle, but nothing to work with. You gave me nothing that could help me figure out what you are. No one knows,” he finished in a whisper, and sighed.

“No one?” Minseok asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I do not pray just for the sake of it, Minseok. I spent the last two nights praying to my ancestors for answers. They have none.”

“You must be really desperate to be bothering the dead,” the man hummed, nearing Jongdae. However, once he reached the circle of candles, he stopped. The witch smirked.

“Interesting,” he said, looking up at the moon. It was almost perfectly round.

“What is so interesting?”

“You, _spirit_ ,” Jongdae said, turning his head towards Minseok. The witches’s eye were shining, and the wind started blowing, disturbing his hair. He looked like a madman.

Minseok was taken aback, shocked by the younger.

“Look at you, little witch. So it’s true what they say about you on the other side. You are quite _something_ ,” Minseok laughed, leaning back against the tree, “so what, I cannot pass?”

“This circle protects me from many things, and the dead are one of them.”

“Look at you, nearly solving the riddle, I must say, I am impressed.”

“Nearly?!” Jongdae raised his voice, “I found the answer!”

“Give me my name, Jongdae. Give me the name, my beautiful witch,” the man said, and his eyes shone brighter than the moon.

“That is not fair! You wanted me to guess who you were! I did!”

“Not completely. You only guessed what I am. Time is ticking. But for now, you should take a rest. Tomorrow is the bloody moon. I believe you’ve got a show to put on,” Minseok smiled, disappearing in the darkness of the forest.

Jongdae sighed, irritated, his mind already connected with the other side, looking for answers.

 

“You’ve been on the edge, Jongdae, is everything alright?” Fanny asked the next morning, looking up from her oatmeal.

“Have you seen Minseok?” Jongdae whispered, looking toward an empty spot by the table.

“Not since he left yesterday night. He never came back for the night. Does it have something to do with him? Your nerves?”

Jongdae nodded, pushing his bowl away, “just as I’ll be collecting the souls of the sinners, he’ll be —“ and then he went quiet, realization drawing upon him. “That’s it!”

“What’s what?” Fanny looked at her nephew confused, raising her eyebrow.

“Oh, Fanny, tonight is gonna be such a great night! I gotta go, I won’t be back!” he exclaimed, standing up.

“But Jongdae, your breakfast! The sun has barely rose! The moon won’t be up for hours! What are you doing?!”

“Oh, Fanny,” he smiled, putting a black cloak on, “I wanna take the scenery in one last time. Tomorrow there’s gonna be nothing in here, but a field of red roses.”

 

 

Jongdae spent the whole day walking around the village, observing laughing children that were playing in the thin layer of snow, and panicking parents who knew exactly what the snow meant. He took his time to listen to conversations of troubled villagers, to fill his lungs with fear gathered in the air, pick up dying flowers from the ground, and bite into frozen apples. Although covered in frost, they were still as sweet as Jongdae remembered them from when he was a child. As the sun started nearing the horizon, and the silver moon started becoming brighter, Jongdae reached the house in the middle of the village. The place he once called home. He looked around, and he realized how little has changed since he fled the place years ago. As the last rays of sunshine were touching his face, he smiled from ear to ear, and taking a deep breath in, yelled out:

“Siwon! Come out, come out, wherever you are! The night has come, it’s time for payback! Come out, come out! The little witch is here, it’s time to start the hunt!”

People around gasped, and seconds later the door to the king’s house opened, and a small army of armored soldiers ran out, circling Jongdae.

The sun disappeared behind the horizon, darkness fell above the village, and as Jongdae’s eyes turned red, so did the moon.

“Welcome to the hunt,” he mumbled, and everyone took a step back.

But it didn’t help them, as the next moment Jongdae opened his arms and a terrible win came, disturbing fire in torches, which caught onto wood and set fire to the surrounding them houses. People begin screaming, trying to run towards the gates, but whenever the were nearing an exit from the village, there was a rain of lightnings coming from the start, cutting their way out off. After only a few moments, the whole village was surrounded by fire. There was no escape.

“Kill him!” Someone yelled, but before any of the soldiers managed to move, Jongade had them all lying dead on the ground, stopping their hearts with electric shocks.

“I will be the only one standing by the end of the night!” Jongdae yelled, looking at some people gathered around, “bring me your king! Give me Siwon!”

“Jongdae!” the witch heard a familiar voice, and once he looked up, he saw his oppressor standing at the top of the stairs, gold crown on his head.

“You finally showed up.”

“What do you want?” Siwon asked, “why are you doing this?! You are angering the spirits!”

“Oh no. I am doing this _for_ the spirits, for my ancestors! You messed so bad, Siwon. You and your people. You are the ones who brought it upon yourselves!” he laughed, and the laugh froze blood in veins.

“We haven’t done anything wrong! We only did what they wanted!”

“You killed an innocent!” He yelled at the top of his lungs, “you slaughtered my family!”

“You mother was a witch! And you are its best proof!”

“My mother was you queen. And my sister was an innocent soul that stained the grounds of this village. My father’s blood was blood of an innocent that stained this place. My mother was a witch sent by the spirits to guard this place. You killed the very pact that kept this place what it was. You angered the ancestors, and it is time to pay for that.”

 

The village full of abundance was no longer.

 

As Siwon made his way towards the witch, his knees gave up on him, and he fell to the ground, kneeling in front of Jongdae, “what are you doing to me?!”

“I am killing you,” the younger whispered, smiling at the king, “you, and all the others responsible for my family’s deaths. And with you, and them, I will let the blood of this whole rotten village stain the ground and serve as water to roses that will cover the sins of your souls.”

“Jongdae —“

“U huhu, no more talking. There is not going to be anything heroic about your death,” the witch said, taking out a dagger, “I will kill you in one swift movement, I will let your blood stain my hands and robes, and then I will make the earth shake from my lightnings,” he explained, constantly smiling, and after enjoying the fear in the other’s eyes, he slit the king’s throat, letting the blood flow. A maniacal laugh ripped from his lungs, and as the body in his hands stopped moving, he kicked it to the ground, grabbed the king’s sword, chopped his head off, and putting it up in the air, he yelled:

“Your king is dead! And with him, all of you!”

As he laughed, a rain of lightnings fell to the ground, hitting everything and everyone on its way, either setting it on fire, or killing it.

Before the sun rose, Jongdae was sitting on a pile of corpse, watching the fire consume whatever was left from the village.

“Do you have the name?” he heard a whisper next his ear, and as he turned around, he saw Minseok sitting right beside him.

“I do, actually,” he smirked, “ _Death_.”

“You’ve done your job well, Jongdae,” Minseok said, standing up. “Now it’s my turn to collect what is mine.”

“Be my guest,” the witch replied, ready to jump to the ground. But before he did that, he felt a cold touch on his elbow, and a second later he was pulled up.

“The sun, the moon, and all of the stars shall be yours,” Minseok whisper, pulling the witch in for a kiss.

But this time, instead of fear, Jongdae felt fire ignite inside of him.


End file.
